Strangers
by fufulupin
Summary: AU fic set somewhere in Sunnydale. Cordy finds herself with a stalker who may just be a friend...later chaps may be 'R' rated
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Sadly...  
Angel: It's unfortunate, ain't it?  
Me: You're mean...  
Angel: *rolls eyes* You mean just because I wouldn't let you beat Joss with a branch, hide him in a closet, and steal his ideas for yourself? Yep. I'm the mean one.  
Me: Damn straight. *pokes him* *sigh* Well, you heard the man...pire. And, yes, I'm joining that long list of authors who kidnap their characters for their disclaimers. *sigh* I'm a follower at heart.  
  
Chapter 1  
Cordelia Chase was very much the Queen of Cool. No one disputed that. Even the teachers accepted her as the best of the best.  
So why oh why was this happening to her??  
Horrified, she gawked at the paper in her trembling hands. "Re...revoked?"  
Her best friend, Harmony, patter her arm sympathetically. "You can always fight them."  
Another member of her carefully chosen group, Danica, nodded fervently. "Yeah. You're Queen C!"  
Cordelia inhaled deeply. "You're right. They won't get away with this." Pocketing the pink slip, she dazzled her friends with a white grin. "Tell me I can't drive for six months, will they?"  
Harmony beamed. "There's the spirit. Now, have you given the Spring Formal any thought?"  
Cordelia rolled her hazel eyes. "Harmony, I'm on the planning committee. Do you really think I've given anything else any thought?"  
Her less-than-brilliant buddy's smile faded. "Oh...right."  
"How about date possibilities?" Connie wanted to know. All of the girls leaned forward eagerly.  
Their queen let her firey gaze sweep the Bronze. "Well, I haven't made any final decisions yet, of course. Matt Rodin's looking mighty promising, but John Michel's is fine too."  
Her court let out long sighs. She smirked to herself as Jeanie said, "You *rule*, Cordy."  
"I know," she replied happily. "Unfortunately for you all, I'll be ruling from home tonight. I have to study for a history test."  
A chorus of 'aww's went up around the table and Cordelia put on her very best sympathetic expression before standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder and heading outside.  
The Bronze may have been a great place to party, but it wasn't placed in very close proximity to her home, and that put Cordelia off. She wished the constructors would have thought a little about her pain for once as she looked around at the seemingly-writhing shadows.  
Picking up her pace a little, the brunette chanced a quick glance behind herself. No one was directly back there, but that didn't make her feel any better. She bolted around the corner, heart racing.  
'Calm down,' she silently berated herself. 'It's just darkness, you moron.'  
A hand closed around her wrist.  
She shrieked, instinctively batting at her assailant with her handbag. The burly young man jumped back slightly.  
"Woah!" he exclaimed. "Chill out."  
Placing one hand over her still-thudding heart, she snapped, "Geez, lurk much?" Taking a closer look, she recognized the boy. "Mark? Aren't you in my trig class?"  
He nodded, shaggy blonde hair flopping endearingly over his forehead. "You looked lonely. I wanted to walk you home."  
"Lonely might not have been the emotion," she muttered to herself, relief hitting her. "But thanks. A wandering buddy would be nice."  
Mark smiled distantly as they headed towards her house once again. "Sunnydale's not a bad town, but you really shouldn't be alone at night. There are some very creepy people out."  
"That's for sure," she agreed.  
He paused. "Here, let's go this way."  
A frown creased her pretty features. "Why? That's not the way to my place."  
Mark shrugged. "It's a shortcut."  
"To my house?" Suspicion bit at her. "How would you know?"  
He gave another indifferent shrug. "I've been to a few parties down that way."  
They stopped walking again and Cordelia looked around nervously. "Where are we?"  
"In an alley." The young man stepped closer and she backed up. "Alone."  
"In the dark," Cordelia finished, voice wavering. Her back touched brick wall and she shivered. "Mark, what the hell—?"  
He touched her hair, then ran a lone finger down her cheek. She tugged back.  
"Don't touch me, perv!"  
He wasn't fazed. "No, Cordy, honey. I'm not a perv. Just a lonely man looking for affection..." His hand slipped down her neck to her shoulders. Prying fingers moved under the strap of her dress.  
She yelped. "Hey! Get off of me!" Lashing out, she hit him in the nose.  
He growled, shoved her more firmly into the wall. "That, my sweet, was a big mistake."  
"My sweet??" Cordelia pushed frantically at his chest. "What the hell is wrong with you?"  
"Kinda asking myself the same question."  
This voice was new and Mark turned abruptly, hands still on Cordelia.  
"Who the hell are you?" the intending rapist demanded.  
The young man was tall and kind of lanky, in a filled-out, athletic sort of way. His brown hair was neatly spiked in the front and his skin was pale, but not unhealthily so. He wore baggy black jeans and a gray sweater, both of which lent him a shadowy look that had hidden him from sight.  
Mark smirked, one hand still lazily pawing his prize. "Beat it, pal. You're intruding."  
"No!" Cordelia cried. "Really, no. I don't mind at all."  
The stranger took several menacing steps into the alley. "Intrusions can be good."  
"Very good," Cordelia agreed, nodding emphatically. She struggled against Mark's probing hands.  
The handsome young man glared at her captor. "I think you should take your hands off of her. Now."  
Mark cursed, finally releasing her shoulders. "What are you going to go about it? This is between the two of us."  
"Not from where I'm standing."  
Grinning to himself, Mark made a fist and hit the newcomer hard. He was rewarded with two jabs to the stomach and a quick kick to the groin.  
Cordelia stared as the blond boy collapsed in a whimpering heap. "Is he..going to be okay?"  
"I don't know," her rescuer replied, sounding as though he thoroughly didn't care. "Let's get you home."  
She nodded, then froze, remembering the last seemingly-trustworthy young man who had offered her companionship.  
"Are you going to try to..." She frowned, hefting her purse warily.  
He smiled a little. "No. I hate scumbags like that."  
She relaxed. "God, me too!"  
They walked in silence for a few minutes, Cordelia leading the way. Finally, she offered, "I'm Cordelia Chase."  
"Angel," he responded.  
She laughed. "I'm not an angel."  
He stopped, looking slightly embarrassed. "No, uh...that's my name."  
"Oh." She warded off an uncharacteristic blush and they lapsed back into silence.  
By the time they'd reached her home, Cordelia's well-known mouth was moving again. "Thank you."  
"Sure." Angel didn't look at her, choosing instead to inspect a nearby bush.  
"Really. I, uh...think I owe you my life." She offered a gracious smile.  
A blush lit his pale face. "I was just walking."  
"Still." She looked over at him, smiling more slyly. "You should be properly thanked."  
Angel scooted backward. "No, verbal thanks is great, really."  
She thought about that. This Angel guy was sweet, more so than she'd thought was possible. He didn't care about rewards, which was both noble and infinitely weird. Cordelia shrugged.  
"You go to Sunnydale High, right? I think I've seen you around."  
"I'm in your art class," he murmured shyly.  
"Great! I'll see you tomorrow, then." Giving him another broad smile, she unlocked her front door ('Mom and Dad on vacation, per usual') and slipped inside.  
When she peered out the window to catch a last glimpse of her handsome rescuer, she saw nothing. He'd already disappeared into the shadows.  
  
A/N: Ok, obviously this is an AU. Some background info: No Buffy. She didn't fit with the plot, so I stuck her in Cleveland or something. I'm not sure about vamps, but for now expect them. Also, expect some viewings of Giles, Xand, and Will...I think they'll be appearing. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Me: *waves* Hi. Second installment. Hoping it goes over well. Oh, and thanks for the singular review I got. It really meant a lot to me. *sniff* JMJ, you deserve a medal of some kind for sitting through this story and actually being brave enough to request more. This is for you!  
Angel: Don't forget Queen C and all the other Dusted people who say they're going to visit.  
Me: *smacks forehead* Of course, right. Love y'all for encouraging my twisted little mind. *evil grin* Yeah, so, I still own nothing. How sad.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The next day, Angel sat on the stone wall outside Sunnydale High. He stared down at the sketchpad on his lap and let his mind go blank as his pencil smoothly swept across the textured page.  
"Hi!" a bright voice said in his ear.  
He jumped, dropping the drawing utensil. Cordelia grinned, flicking long brown bangs out of her laughing eyes.  
"Wow, jumpy much? How much coffee did you inhale this morning?"  
"A bit," he replied defensivly. "Not enough to keep me awake through Mrs. Beakman's class."  
"Ah, contemporary literature." The young woman made a face. "Does she, like, make you write poetry?"  
Angel smiled. "Poetry's not bad. In fact, I like the class in general. Just not the teacher."  
"Oh." She shrugged her designer backpack from one shoulder to the other.  
His grin widened. "Is that incredably lame?"  
"No. Why?" Her 'I'm so innocent' expression took full control of her face.  
Collecting his books, Angel shook his head. "Because you're Cordelia Chase, ruler of all things social."  
"Your point being?" She was confused. Most boys drooled all over themselves when she gave them anything even resembling attention. This guy seemed almost indifferent.  
"My point being you never do anything unless it helps you. Boosts your popularity levels, gains you favors, stuff like that. You're not being nice to me because you care anything about me, Cordelia, you want something."  
Now she wasn't just surprised, she was shell-shocked. "You saved my *life*, what more would I want from you?"  
"You tell me." His chocolate eyes seemed to capture her, dragging her down.  
She couldn't believe him. "Why are you acting like such a jerk?"  
He seemed to shake himself. "Sorry."  
Dropping off the wall, Angel slung his backpack over his shoulders and headed for the school. She followed and he explained, "When I draw, I tend to get lost in my drawing. Sometimes, when someone jerks me out of my little world, I tend to get a little disoriented and all moody for no reason. It's nothing personal."  
"Nothing personal?"  
He looked amused. "Are you a parrot?"  
"No, I—"She eyed him. "You're a weird guy, Angel."  
"As the truth unfolds." He laughed softly.  
"Are you always this weird?" she pushed.  
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't exactly have a lot of people who care enough to tell me."  
"You don't have friends?" She was stunned. "How do you survive?"  
  
He chuckled. "I get by."  
"How?"  
He stopped walking. "Cordelia, look at it this way. If I did have friends, would I have been there to help you last night?" When she didn't answer, he sighed. "This isn't a bad way to live. I'm not judged, there are no standard, and I have lots of time for myself. It's probably a lot less stressful than your life."  
For the first time in her life, Cordelia had nothing to say. She just watched him as he gave a tiny wave and disappeared into a classroom.  
Harmony caught her arm and burst into non-stop chatter as Cordelia was dragged into biology. The young woman frowned, all but ignoring her friend.  
It's probably a lot less stressful than your life...  
  
At lunch, Cordelia didn't go to her usual table, opting instead for the more outdoorsy approach. She told herself she was looking for fresh air.  
In all honesty, she was looking for Angel.  
And find him she did. He was curled up beneath a sprawling tree, reading a small black book.  
She sat quietly beside him, careful not to disturb his concentration.  
He looked up. "Hey."  
"Hi." Craning her neck, she looked over his shoulder at his reading material. Oddly enough, she couldn't read a word of it.  
"It's in French," he told her with a faint smile. "My...dad thought I should learn the language of romance." He made a mocking face, shaking his head.  
She laughed. "Sounds like a great guy."  
"Oh, yeah. Terrific," he grumbled sarcastically. "I've never been good enough for him."  
'Maybe now's not the best time to tell him I'm Daddy's little princess...'  
Whatever his family situation made him feel, Angel shook it off fairly quickly. Closing his book, he smiled.  
"What brings you to my tree?"  
Cordelia raised her eyebrows. "Your tree? I don't see your name on it."  
He shifted, poking a thumb over his shoulder at the crude angel and name carved into the bark. She grinned.  
"Vandalism. I knew you were an interesting guy."  
He looked wounded. "That's not vandalism. It's art. It's expression. It's—"  
"Going to get you in trouble if Nazi Snyder eyes finds out," she finished. He grinned goofily.  
"Damn straight." He leaned back so he was staring up at the sky. "Nice weather."  
"Like it would ever rain here." She smoothed her skirt and looked into her lunchbag. "Nothing good in here."  
"That's just as well, seeing as lunch is over." To punctuate Angel's words, the bell rang. He smiled. "Art time."  
"Goody." Standing, she tossed her uneaten lunch into a trash can. "How's the sketch coming?"  
He lifted and dropped his shoulders. "Slowly. The motivation's there, it's just hiding."  
"Can I see it?"  
Another shrug. "Why not?"  
She waited patiently as he tried to fumble in his bag and walk at the same time. When it became clear that he was unable to dig the sketchbook in question out, she lightly brushed a hand against his arm. "Forget it. You can show me in class."  
He nodded, looking a little embarrassed, as they entered the classroom and chose seats at the same table. Instantly, a group of both genders uprooted themselves and flocked to their desk.  
Angel sank down on his stool, clearly trying to fade into the steel and plastic, but Cordelia was used to this. She gave them all her best death glare (and it was a good one) and the mob dispersed, looking rejected.  
She smiled as her male counterpart straightened a bit. "Not comfy with large groups, are we?"  
He frowned seriously. "I like my space."  
"Right, of course. Mr. Silent Broody Guy."  
"I am not broody! Or silent, for that matter." He crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Because making random cynical comments is considered the most talkative way of life." She was purposely finding his buttons and pushing them and they both knew it.  
He heaved a dramatic sigh. "Do you want to see that drawing or not?"  
"Ooh, yes!" She did that happy-peppy bouncing thing that usually made him want to smack somebody. Instead, he dug the drawing out and offered it to her.  
Her sigh was interesting. Did she like it?  
"Angel, this is amazing," she breathed. "You drew this?"  
"No, I photo-copied it," he joked, pleased.  
"When? Where did you..."  
"In the Bronze, before school. In this class. I do what I can when I can."  
She smoothed a finger across the paper. "It looks just like me."  
"Good." He directed his happy gaze away from the Cordelia-replica to the real thing. She seemed breathless, and he grinned.  
She glanced up. "You've got the cutest smile."  
He stiffened slightly. She could switch moods and expressions so quickly and it threw him off. Angel himself owned very few facial expressions: serious frown, quirky grin, sarcastic smirk. That was pretty much it.  
This girl, crazy as she was, could look adoring one moment, pissed off the next, and then unexpectedly switch to tranquil. It was kind of scary.  
Her eyes searched his for a minute, then jumped to the presence behind him.  
"Cordelia!" Mr. Malcolm exclaimed delightedly. "This is fantastic!"  
"Oh, it's not mine. Angel was just showing me some of his work." She beamed proudly.  
The teacher glanced at the quiet young man. "Angel...you did this?"  
He nodded guardedly. Mr. Malcolm's grin widened.  
"Fabulous work, just superb! I knew you had talent, but this is...wow." The man wandered off, muttering to himself.  
Cordelia shook her head. "He is one scary, scary man."  
"Yeah," Angel agreed faintly.  
She regarded him for a bit, then added, "He's right, though. You do have talent."  
"Thanks." Heat crept up his face and he grunted, trying unsucessfully to force it away.  
"Sure. Now do me a favor and use that talent to help me pass this class." She shoved her half-finished still-life toward him. "Something's really off about this chair." 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Me: *grudgingly* Still don't own nothin. Are you happy now?  
Angel: Yes. Very. Now get your hand out of my back pocket.  
Me: *evil grin/pouts* Fine. But only because I know you belong with Cordy.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
By that evening, Angel knew she was different. He'd known her for twenty-four hours and, somehow, he felt like he knew her completely.  
Saving a person's life could do wonders for your social life.  
Sure, she was brighter and bouncier than he was usually comfortable with, and, yeah, she had that irritating self-centered streak that spawned many 'I'm the queen of you and you and you....' moments. But she was also sweet and beautiful and kind...to him, anyway. And she somehow made him feel...warmer.  
At the Bronze that night, he had to force himself to remember all this. After all, he was *not* a social guy. And the Bronze was made for social people.  
Tapping his fingers uneasily against the tabletop, Angel looked toward the front doors. Sure enough—  
Cordelia walked in, laughing and talking with her usual group. He shifted, recognizing with sudden clarity the wrongness of him being there, in her territory. This was her world, not his.  
Tearing his eyes from her, he plucked at the blue button-down he was wearing over black cargos and black shoes, feel insanely stupid.  
'Maybe if I try really hard, I can still slip out of here.'  
"Angel!" Her voice, the one that had been reverberating around in his head all day, sounded stunned, but happily so. He looked up, hoping to look nonchalent and not all deer-in-headlighty. From her expression, he guessed that was a no-go.  
"What are you doing here?" She raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.  
"Temporary loss of judgement?"  
A giggled escaped her mouth even as the blonde at her side, Harmony, asked, "Who's the hottie?"  
"This is Angel," Cordelia replied, taking his arm. He had no choice but to give a little wave.  
Harmony's eyes lit up. "Oh, he's *perfect*. Cordy—"  
"Do you want to dance?" Cordelia interuptted, ignoring her friend.  
"Uh..." Dancing. Of course she would want to dance. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that? "Sure?"  
"Great." Grasping his hand firmly, she tugged him into the squirming mass of teenages. He immeadiatly felt claustrophobic.  
"Cordy, I—me with the dancing isn't exactly..."  
"Relax," she soothed, draping her arms around his neck. "It's slow. I'm sure you won't strain yourself too badly." Leaning back, she looked up at him through inquisitive hazel eyes. "So, again I ask. What are you doing here?"  
"Again I'll answer—I'm clearly insane." He glanced at the couple beside him. The girl looked perfectly content, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend was gazing jealously at another couple several feet away.  
"Why are you insane?"  
"I hate crowded places," he mumbled, instinctivly tightening his hold on her waist as the jealous guy's eyes bored holes into the back of Cordelia's head.  
"I never would've guessed." She snicked, fingers playing absently with the hari at the nape of his neck. He shivered and she frowned. "What's wrong?"  
"Just, uh, chilly." He shrugged, unnerved by his own reaction. "In here?" She looked doubtful. "Angel, it must be ninety degrees in here." He didn't respond and she sighed. "Angel, are you scared of dancing?" "No!" A stubborn expression crossed his intense features. "Just uncomfortable, that's all." At her disbelieving look, he added, "Is that a crime?"  
"If it's not, it should be," she retorted hotly. "You're seventeen, Angel. You should be outside your sketchbook, living it up."  
It was his turn to sigh. "What do you want me to do?"  
"It would be niuce is you asked me to the Spring Formal on Friday." Her gaze caught his  
He licked his lips. "I...Formal? As in the school dance coming up?"  
"Duh. Do you live on another planet or something?" Reaching up, she knocked on his head.  
Angel tensed. She was serious; she really wanted him to ask her.  
"Okay, I'll think about it." His eyes sparkled. She smiled slyly.  
"Playing it that way, huh? Well, that's a mistake, big guy. 'Cause you are messing with the queen of games."  
"Like Monopoly?" he teased, feeling himself relax. "Yahtzee, maybe?"  
"Like mind-games, dating." She smirked. "And also Go Fish."  
A laugh actually burst from his lips. "I'll be sure to challenge that sometime."  
"After we go to the dance?" she asked hopefully.  
"I'll think about it," he repeated as the song died down. He glanced at his watch. "I should go. Don't want Mom to worry."  
Rolling her eyes, Cordelia disentangled herself from him. "Mama's boy."  
"Daddy's girl," he shot back, grinning. She hit his arm.  
"So I'll see you tomorrow," he added.  
"With your answer," she emphazized, making her way back to her table.  
"Don't walk home alone," he called back as an afterthought.  
She nodded to show that she'd heard as she fell into conversation with some guy Angel didn't know. He scowled as he left, kicking at the ground in annoyance.  
Was that jealousy slamming into his gut?  
--  
By the next morning, he had his decision. When she stepped onto school grounds, he fairly tackled her.  
"Hi!" He bounced. "Good morning!"  
Cordelia looked appropriatly stunned. "You're...awake."  
"Very," he replied cheerfully. "And you're not?"  
She shrugged. "It's nothing. I'm fine." Brightening, she added, "So?"  
He played dumb. "So...the sky looks less smog-filled than usual, huh?"  
"Angel, you jerk!" She beat him with her trig notebook.  
"Oh, right." He inhaled deeply. He's spent the previous night thinking and thinking and thinking a little bit more about this and, although the answer was simple, he wasn't sure he could actually make the words come out of his mouth.  
"DoyouwanttogotothedancewithmeCordy?"  
"Okay, maybe he could. Not exactly coherently, but the invitationwas there all the same.  
Her face broke into a whide smile. "You don't ask girls out very often, do you?"  
"I ask guys out even less," he quipped. "So do you still want to, or did I just make an ass out of myself?"  
"Well, yeah you made an ass out of yourself." She was speaking through a fit of laughter.  
Annoyance beat at him. "Well?"  
Straightening, she said solemnly, "SureI'llgotothedancewithyouAngel."  
She even kept a straight face. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're mean."  
She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, the opportunity was just there...okay, since it's tomorrow night, we'll have to work fast."  
"Work on what?" Angel blankly looked down at himself.  
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled. "Hmm...we might want to lay off the gel...I'm not sure, we'll have to experiment. And, of course, we'll have to get you a tux."  
'All these "we'll have to's" are going to kill me,' he thought nervously. Out loud, he said, "That sounds great. Can you let go of my hair now?"  
  
A/N: Ok, I'm trying to work this along as fast as I can. MORE REVIEWS, PEOPLE! More reviews, more twisted story. *sweet smile* Tell 'em, Angel. Angel: Please, do it. Or she might do something drastic. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Me: Nope. Nada. Nothing. Isn't that just spiffy?  
Angel: *rolls eyes * She went and read GollumRox's stories and now look at her.  
Me: I know! Isn't it spiffy?  
Angel: Stop saying that please.  
*Jack Sparrow poofs in* Jack: Stop annoying the vampire, savvy?  
JS fangirls: SQUEEEE!  
Angel: This is all really random.  
Me: I know, isn't it? Okay, so, after you're done reading this unholy-in-length chapter, go read GollumRox's stuff, mkay? Trust me, you'll thank me later.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Cordelia couldn't help but be filled with excitement at the prospect of a social gathering. Angel must really have liked her to give up his solitary confinement for a full evening of dinner, dancing, and...some other fun word that started with a 'd'.  
She bounced her way through the school day, paying just enough attention to her classes that the teachers couldn't catch her daydreaming. When the final bell rang, she bolted from the school grounds, slowing just long enough to grab the collar of Angel's shirt and drag him along.  
"Shopping!" she announced as he protested that he'd left his locker open. "All other priorites drop under shopping!"  
"Not when my CD player's in there," he whined. She rolled her eyes.  
"Hurry up."  
When he returned (fairly quickly, she noted with satisfaction), she resumed her insistant dragging all the way to the Sunnydale Mall.  
"Clothes first," she announced, pulling him bodily into Tom's Tuxes.  
"Of course," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Dress-up clothes."  
Cordelia flitted between the racks of suits faster than the untrained eye could follow. Mentally, Angel narrated a documentary:  
'Cordelia Chase, Queen of Style, moves quickly and quietly through her surroundings. Though not in her most natural of habitats, the Cordelia somehow manages to move with a sort of unconcious ease as she searches for the perfect prey—'  
"Here," she called triumphantly from a spot six feet away. She was holding a jacket and guesturing for him to come closer. Warily, he obeyed and she thrust the jacket and several other articles of clothing into his arms.  
"What do you want me to do with--?"  
"Try them on," she told him impatiently, pushing him toward the rear of the store.  
As he wrestled with the unfamiliar clothing, he wondered why he was doing this. He could've been at home, drawing something or writing poetry. Instead, he was letting a crazy girl drag him around like one would drag a dog through a park.  
She knocked on the dressing room door. "Are you finished?"  
"Yeah," he grunted, stepping back into the main room. "What do you think?"  
Cordelia looked him over with an appreciative whistle. "Can't complain."  
He frowned down at himself. Black pants and jacket, white shirt, emerald tie. He looked...not like himself.  
"Good fit..." She was circling him now, inspecting every aspect. "Has anyone told you that you could be a male model? You'd fit in with the permanent sullen look of your's." She stopped, turning to the small man who'd appeared behind her. "We'll take it." To Angel, she added, "Put your normal clothes back on."  
He happily obliged, careful not to wrinkle the fabric for fear she'd make him iron. As they paid for the tux, he asked hopefully, "Are we done?"  
"Shoes," she said pointedly.  
He sighed. "This is going to be a long day..."  
--  
Somehow—and Angel wasn't exactly sure how—he managed to survive the Cordelia Chase Shopping Experience. All of his body parts were intact. He even had some sanity left.  
That evening, he collapsed on his bed, exhausted. Tomorrow was the day he was dreading, a shy man's hell. He was going in with open arms.  
Maybe he *had* lost all of his sanity.  
--  
Cordelia walked quickly, aiming for her home once again. She was jittery, excitement for the dance making her limbs jiggle almost as it she'd recently gone through elctro-shock therapy. But something else was wading just beneath the happy surface, something scarier.  
She was being followed.  
Mentally, she gave a scream of frusteration. 'Why me? Why is it always me, what did I do to deserve this?!'  
Her legs propelled her through the night and she found herself praying for Angel to come out of the shadows again. 'Come on, come save me...'  
No such luck. She glanced over her shoulder, frantic, then looked back toward her target. 'Damn, sometimes *not* seeing someone behind you is the worst thing—yes!'  
She had reached her house and, for once, her key was within easy reach. Unlocking the door, she pushed into the foyer—then paused.  
"What the..."  
A note was under the welcome mat. She took it, closed the door, and sank onto a couch to read the chilling words:  
I'm watching you.  
--  
"Angel!"  
He turned, coulful eyes already conveying a great amount of concern. Cordelia was rushing toward him across the school's grass, waving a piece of paper somewhat manically. When she reached him, she forced the sheet into his hand.  
"I'm watching you?" he read aloud. "Where did this come from?"  
"My front porch," she announced, sinking down on a bench. "Last night."  
His frown came as an odd comfort. "Weird."  
"Tell me about it! I was just walking home and then it was like I was being followed!" She shuddered.  
Angel glanced up. "Don't you own a car?"  
Cordelia scowled. "I had my liscense revoked. And all because that stupid little girl had to ride her bike in the street..."  
Angel decided he didn't want to know. Instead, he asked seriously, "Have you taken this to the police?"  
"No." She shrugged. "What would I say? Hey, I know this doesn't seem like much to you guys, but I found this note and since I'm so cute and popular, that must be bad?"  
"Well...you could've worded it differently." He watched her.  
"Forget it, Angel, it's not important."  
"It's very important," he insisted, seeing a well-hidden loophole. "You know, maybe we shouldn't go to the dance...you should get an early night, just to be save."  
She smirked. "Nice try."  
He deflated. "No escape?"  
"Resistance is futile." Patting his arm, Cordelia retrived her note and headed for class, leaving a dejected-looking Angel behind.  
--  
Before he was even ready for it, evening had fallen and Angel had borrowed his father's ancient convertible to pick up Cordelia. Normally, he was uncomfortable with driving, but hey, he was dressed up and his spiky locks were soft and free of hair gel; it was a night of discomfort.  
She came gracefully out of her house wearing a long red gown and he felt his heart momentarily pause in it's usual rhythm at the sight.  
"Wow."  
"What?" She knew what. This was just her form of modesty.  
Angel blinked, putting the car in drive. "You just look..."  
"Go on, say it." Cordelia laughed. "Beautiful. Gorgeous. A hotter than hot hottie."  
"Sums it up," he agreed with a nervous chuckle.  
"Well, you don't look so bad yourself." Her eyes roamed him for a moment and he felt himself turn a light shade of red.  
The ride had an air of pleasant comfort from there on out and Angel was sorry to see it end. He turned off the engine and sighed heavily. "Do I have to?"  
"Yep." She smiled and left the car and he hurried to catch up.  
The moment he took her arm, things started happening. Not Red Carpet- level things, but still more activity than Angel usually liked.  
A huge mob of well-dressed teens fell upon them. Angel jerked back slightly in panic. Cordelia just rammed right through them.  
They came out on the other side in on piece, which the trembling young man found amazing. His hands shook and Cordelia took one of them between her own.  
"Breathe," she suggested.  
"You actually *like* this?" he demanded. "Having people swarming everywhere?"  
"It'll be better inside," she promised, pulling him through the doors. Loud music was already playing and the gym was full of gyrating couples. Angel recoiled again.  
"Oh my God."  
"Angel, you're like a little old man!" she laughed. "Calm down."  
"I-I shouldn't be here." His eyes wildly bounced from one point to another. "This is—"  
"You need to calm down," she repeated softly.  
"But I—"  
"Dance with me." It wasn't a request so much as a command and, swallowing hard, Angel obeyed.  
She put her arms around his neck and he swallowed again before letting the intense music dicate his movements.  
Angel wasn't a dance. He never had been, and probably could move at all only because he was a skilled martial artist. Because of this, he began to feel more and more at ease with the idea of swaying to the music.  
They moved in sync for a little while, familiarizing themselves with the beat. Then Cordelia turned in his embrace and moved against him.  
He felt uneasy for a brief moment, then realized all the other girls were doing the same thing and relaxed. She closed her eyes, raising her arms over her head and he smiled at the contentment written over her face.  
When the song ended, he found himself yearning for another one to start up. And then another, and another.  
Cordelia grinned. "Well, aren't you just the Lord of the Dance."  
He beamed at her, wiping sweat from his brow. "Much as I hate to say it, this is actually fun."  
"Told you." She pulled him out of the crowded gym and sighed. "Wow. I love these things, but they are exhausting."  
"One more song?" he pleaded.  
Cordelia giggled. "You're just saying that because your highly- attuned boy ears know what song is coming."  
  
"Well, I'm sorry if I love Bon Jovi." He bounced on the balls of his feet. "Please?"  
  
She gave into his puppy-dog expression and they ducked back onto the dance floor just as the song began.  
Half the boys and several girls burst into song. "Shot to the heart, and you're to blame! You give love a bad name!"  
Angel kept bouncing, waving his arms and laughing. Cordelia rolled her eyes affectionatly.  
"You're such a guy."  
"Proud of it," he replied before starting to sing again. Not well, Cordelia noted with a slight wince, but the exuberance with which he belted out the lyrics was adorable.  
By the time the song was done, Cordelia was vowing to drag Angel to the next Bon Jovi concert that rolled into town—or, more likely, rolled into Los Angeles, since nobody good ever came to Sunnydale.  
She led him outside and inhaled the fresh air. Angel tried to shove his hands into his pockets, then, realizing he had none, fiddled with his jacket.  
"Having fun?" he asked, voice betraying his worry. Cordelia grinned, knowing she looked tired.  
"Can't you tell from my lack of energy?" she teased. "I'm having a great time." Her face softened. "Thank you."  
"For what?" He looked startled.  
"You came out of your cave. For me. It was sweet of you."  
Angel looked heavenward. "It's not a big deal." It seemed like she was always thanking him for things he hadn't done. Sure, he'd saved her from a very unpleasent experience with Mark, but that had half been an accident. He'd been walking, heard a scuffle, got curious. He was just lucky the other boy hadn't been armed.  
"It is to me." She drew closer, almost to the point where she'd been invading his personal space, but not quite.  
Angel stepped back. "I have to go to the bathroom. Sorry."  
Barely concealing an irritated groan, Cordelia watched him hurry away. "That boy has some serious intimacy issues," she muttered, mentally resloving to fix that problem. Sighing, she sat on a bench and looked over the railing.  
A voice sounded behind her. She jumped, realizing several meaningless minutes had passed and she wasn't quite as alone as she'd thought.  
"You ignored me." The voice was calm and Cordelia's stomach turned.  
"Who are you?"  
"Unimportant," he growled. The man wasn't visible at all and that just frightened her more.  
"Why don't you come out of there?" she demanded shakily. "We could talk, maybe get some coffee. Discuss why you're harassing me."  
"You're in no place to be telling me to do anything," the soft voice informed her coldly. "I've been ignored, Cordelia, and I hate being ignored."  
She felt frozen. "What do you want?"  
No reply came drifting from the darkness. He was gone, but the fear wasn't. Cordelia shuddered and nearly collapsed.  
Surprisingly, Angel was behind her. He looked confused as he caught her.  
"Are you okay?"  
Instead of replying, she gave a soft whimper and buried her face in her friend's shirt. Angel blinked.  
"Cordy?"  
She sobbed into his chest. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."  
"What?" Clamping his arms firmly around her, he searched the shadows with wary eyes. "What happened?"  
"H-he was here. Somewhere here. He s-said he..." Cordelia gulped. "He didn't like being ignored."  
"Who is he, Cordelia, who is this guy?" Anger tinged Angel's voice as he pictured some bastard threatening his Cordy from the darkness.  
"I don't know!" she wailed. "He didn't come out and I didn't recognize the voice."  
"Coward," Angel growled softly, shifting his protective hold slightly.  
"I'm sorry!" she cried, sounding oddly angry. "I didn't know I was supposed to go see him!"  
"Not you. The guy." He couldn't help but roll his eyes.  
"Oh, right." Sniffling, Cordelia pulled back and gazed up at him. "I don't feel safe here"  
"I'll take you home." He nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket for his keys. "Come on."  
Unlike the drive to the dance, the one home was pretty silent. Angel looked thoughtfully pissed off while Cordelia tried in vain to remember the details of the stranger's voice.  
When he dropped her off, Angel promised, "We'll go the police tomorrow morning."  
"Right, okay." She gave him a fierce hug before slipping into the house and locking the door behind her. Leaning against it, she muttered, "For the first time in my life, I wish my parents were home..."  
She went upstairs to collapse in her room, glad to be relativly safe. After all, she reasoned as she hung the dress up and slipped into a tank top and pajama pants, no one could get to her here.  
Something smashed through her window. Cordelia screamed even as she saw that the something in question was a rock...with a another note.  
Fingers shaking, she freed the slip of paper and read the scrawl.  
Don't go to the police.  
  
A/N: Good God that took a long time to type...so, I'm hoping for lots of reviews for my trouble. PLEASE?? *looks puppyish* I'll be your best friend... 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Me: No. Still no. It's still Joss', despite all my generous offers to buy it from him....erm, I mean...  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Angel was unprepared for the phone call he got at eight o'clock the next morning, but he was glad he answered it because Cordelia sounded terrified.  
"I got another note," she said automatically. "We can't go to the police."  
"Cordy, slow down." He rubed the sleep from his eyes and bit back a yawn. "Why can't we go to—"  
"Because he said not to." Her voice was firm. "So we can't."  
"Cordelia, we can't just let this go," he protested.  
"We won't." He could almost hear her defiance. He smiled as she continued, "There's this guy at school, the librarian? I know for a fact he's a weirdo, but he's a smart weirdo and he doesn't talk to the other teachers much. We're going to see him."  
"When?" Propping the phone against his ear with his shoulder, Angel struggled into a forest-green T-shirt and a pair of jeans. When his head surfaced through the shirt-hole, he asked, "Wait, what was that?"  
"We're going to see him today," she repeated impatiently. "Right now, if you can get your wheels over here."  
"Uh...I can get my legs over there," he offered. "Dad's got the car. But before we go anywhere, maybe we should check to make sure book-guy's actually there."  
"He's there, Angel. I don't think he ever actually leaves."  
---  
The two reached the Sunnydale High library to find a fifty-ish man with gray hair bent over a book. They exchanged uneasy glances, the pushed throught the swinging double doors.  
Surprisingly, the man was accompanied by two much-younger people, a boy and a girl. The girl was seated at a computer comsole. The boy, perched on the check-out counter, was whining.  
"Giles, it's Saturday. Don't you need sleep?"  
"Ugh," Cordelia muttered. "Xander Harris."  
The young man looked up, dark hair rumpled. He smirked, puppy-dog brown eyes softening the coarse expression slightly.  
"Cordelia Chase," he announced. "Get ready to bow and scrape your foreheads, everybody."  
The librarian looked up. "May I help you?" he politely inquired in his soft British accent.  
"Yes," the brunette said firmly. "I need help."  
"Mentally or emotionally?" Xander cracked. "Or maybe one of those jocks you've been stringing along is finally fed up."  
"Xander, shut up," the girl said quietly.  
"Thank you Willow," Cordelia said. "I, uh, like your blouse."  
"No you don't," Willow replied automatically. "What do you need?"  
"To be checked into Sunnydale's nearest mental facility," Xander supplied helpfully.  
"Be quiet, Xander," Giles retorted, a bit more forcefully than Willow had. To Cordelia, he offered his hand. "Rupert Giles."  
"Yeah, nice to meet you," she replied shortly. "This is Angel."  
Angel nodded to Giles, who smiled warmly.  
"Always nice to see young faces in this, uh—"  
  
"Dead and musty place?" Xander interjected. Willow tossed a marker at him.  
"—this dead and musty place," Giles agreed, clearly tired. Xander crowed in triumph, prompting Giles to add, "And I'm only letting that go because I have no time to argue with you."  
"That's 'cause you're a feeble old librarian," Xander responded, grinning.  
Giles looked at him sharply, then returned his gaze to the newcomers. "What brings you two here on a Saturday?"  
"What brings you here at all?" Willow added, clicking the mouse twice. "Most kids don't even come here on weekdays."  
"Then why do you?" Angel asked, interested. Cordelia poked him.  
"We're here because I'm in trouble," she informed the British man and his young friends bluntly.  
"T-trouble?" Giles frowned. "What sort of trouble?"  
"The bad sort," she snapped tiredly. It suddenly occurred to Angel that she probably hadn't slept well the previous night.  
Xander wandered over to them and pushed a book into Giles' hands. "This one's lame. Don't bother with it."  
The librarian sighed. "It is not 'lame', Xander. Now, kindly be silent!"  
The young man made a mocking sort of face, but didn't reply. Giles shook his head.  
"Now, what seems to be the problem?" He started to sit down, then rethought his actions. "Would you like some tea?"  
Cordelia nodded as Angel guided her to a seat. The Englishman bustled about in his office for several moments before re-emerging, a tray laden with mugs and a teapot in his hands. He poured the tea and sat, looking curious.  
"Now. Your problem." He offered a polite nod.  
Cordelia frowned. "I think I have a stalker."  
Xander choked on his tea. "Oh, so it *is* one of the jocks?"  
  
"Stalker?" Giles looked surprised even as he ignored the young American teen. "That sounds like a job for the authorities, does it not?"  
"We would go to the police," Angel argeed. "Only the guy sent Cordy a note advising against it." He took a mouthful of tea, then very nearly spat it back out as his tongue unexpectedly burned.  
Giles leaned back in his seat. "Interesting."  
Willow's face was drawn in thought. "Why come to us?" she wanted to know.  
Cordelia shrugged. "You guys seem to like the weird."  
Giles chuckled. "Yes, yes, we do..." He regained his composure. "However, this is no laughing matter, is it?"  
The young woman reached into her purse and withdrew the messages she'd received. "These arrived at my house." Pointing to the more recent one, she added, "I got this one last night via rock-through-the-window."  
Giles looked them over without touching them. He looked up at her curiously. "I suppose you're already handled them?"  
"Well, yeah. How else was I supposed to pick them up?" She frowned as if daring him to reprimand her. Wisely, he didn't.  
"I'll have to find some other method of searching for fingerprints, then." The librarian stood and pulled a small black case from behind the counter.  
Angel gazed at the case. "What is that?"  
"Finger-printing set thingy," Willow told him helpfully.  
"From Giles' younger days," Xander added. "He used to be a wild man."  
Giles chose once again to ignore him. "This is a long-shot, but I'm going to try it before I go into anything more high-tech." He beckoned Cordelia closer. "I'll need your hand."  
She nodded and the Englishman quickly took her fingerprints. Then he glanced at Angel.  
"Did you touch these?" he asked, jerking a hand at the slips of paper. Angel nodded shortly and Giles took his prints too.  
"Now, this may take a while," Giles warned, turning away.  
Cordelia frowned. "How long is 'a while'?"  
"Several days?" The librarian blinked. "I-I'm not sure. I don't exactly do this on a regular basis."  
"Well, we'll just leave you to it," Angel said graciously. He took Cordelia by the shoulders and steered her out of the library.  
"I'll be in touch!" Giles called after them.  
  
A/N: Ok, short, I know, but my brain kinda fizzled out. I'd appreciate some happy reviews; it might give my mind a jump-start. 


End file.
